


Walzer für Niemand

by BananasofThorns



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Slow Dancing, Softness, everything else is the same I just wanted the earbuds and music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25493185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: “Will you dance with me?” Caleb asks, soft, and Fjord startles.“What?” He blurts. Then, once his brain catches up with his mouth, “Oh. I— sure? What—”Caleb shrugs, eyes fixed on the tile beneath their feet. “I suppose I am just in that sort of mood.” He glances back up, momentarily, eyes as piercing as always. “Here.”He hands Fjord the second earbud. His fingers are warm when they brush Fjord’s.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	Walzer für Niemand

**Author's Note:**

> fic inspired by Walzer für Niemand - Sophie Hunger

Nightmares - dark, with the indistinct feeling of drowning - wake Fjord abruptly in the middle of the night. He scrubs a hand over his face and quickly decides that he won’t be getting much more sleep, at least not anytime soon. With a grunt, he throws off his covers and gets out of bed. Even with his darkvision, he nearly stumbles over his own feet on the way to the door, catching himself with a quiet curse.

He opens the door as quietly as he can and tiptoes down the hallway. The house is dark and silent, suspended in that familiar late-night stillness. Though he doesn’t need to, he holds his breath as he steps gingerly down the stairs, careful of the creaking wood. He has no idea of his destination until he turns the corner to find faint, cold light creeping through the archway into the kitchen.

Breath still held in his chest, he tiptoes to the doorway and peeks in.

He finds Caleb, of all people, with a single dim globule of light hovering above his head. He’s swaying, slightly, and it takes Fjord a moment to realize that he’s dancing. The cord of his earbuds disappears into his pocket and his lips move silently to the music.

Catching Caleb like this, with his walls down, feels like stepping across a line Fjord hadn’t realized was there. He inhales for the first time in minutes and clears his throat, rapping his knuckles against the doorframe.

The light blinks out. Caleb spins, his eyes flying open as his hands raise to tug the headphones out of his ears. In a single, smooth motion, he flicks a new globule into the air; this one is warm and golden. He blinks, something in his expression softening when he sees Fjord.

Fjord coughs awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice low. It still shatters through the quiet like a gunshot.

“Oh, no, you did not— it is fine.” Caleb’s accent is thicker than usual; his voice shivers through the empty night air.

Neither of them move or speak for what feels like an hour but is probably only seconds. Caleb clears his throat, shuffling closer to Fjord by a few inches. He tucks one of the earbuds back into his ear and holds the other out to Fjord. The globule of light paints his hand, soot-stained and unbandaged, in gold. Beyond the light’s dim boundary, the rest of the kitchen stretches into inky shadow.

“Will you dance with me?” Caleb asks, soft, and Fjord startles.

“What?” He blurts. Then, once his brain catches up with his mouth, “Oh. I— sure? What—”

Caleb shrugs, eyes fixed on the tile beneath their feet. “I suppose I am just in that sort of mood.” He glances back up, momentarily, eyes as piercing as always. “Here.”

He hands Fjord the second earbud. His fingers are warm when they brush Fjord’s, but Fjord still finds himself shivering. He tucks the earbud into his ear.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a dancer,” he says, lips curling into a self-conscious smile that bares his regrowing tusks.

Caleb scrutinizes him. “That is alright; I can lead.”

Before Fjord can say anything, Caleb grabs his right hand and tangles their fingers together. He pauses for a moment, then reaches into his pocket for his phone. After a moment of fiddling, soft piano begins to filter through the earbud. Caleb tucks the phone away with a slight nod, then directs Fjord’s free hand onto his shoulder. He settles his own palm on Fjord’s waist. His hand burns through Fjord’s thin sleep shirt.

“I will lead,” Caleb repeats, barely above a whisper.

Fjord stumbles for the first few beats, nearly stepping on Caleb’s toes. He settles into the rhythm quickly, though, and loses himself in the piano and the  _ one-two-three _ that Caleb is tapping on his side. Slowly, Caleb tips forward until his forehead is pressed to Fjord’s collarbone. Fjord swallows.

Eventually, the song ends. After a beat of silence, the piano begins again, though this time much more somber. Fjord is expecting it to be completely instrumental, like the first song; though the singer’s voice is soft, he startles at the gentle Zemnian. It’s only after he gets over his brief shock that he realizes Caleb is murmuring along to the lyrics under his breath.

The words are muffled in Fjord’s chest but still clearly audible, even over the music in his right ear. The song itself is melancholic, Fjord thinks, but the way Caleb’s enunciating it feels...personal. His voice is rough and scratchy and more speaking than singing, but there’s something almost mournful to his words. Fjord suppresses a shiver as the song comes to a close; Caleb’s voice breaks on the last note. Their dancing slows to a stop, Caleb’s forehead still pressed to Fjord’s chest.

Fjord carefully doesn’t move. The silence hangs. Eventually, Caleb pulls away.

“Danke,” he says lowly, dropping his hands and stepping back. The earbud still in Fjord’s ear tugs; Caleb rocks forward slightly and gently removes it, then leans back. “Thank you for dancing with me, Fjord.”

His accent curls around Fjord’s name, softening it and drawing it out. Fjord clears his throat.

“Uh— yeah. I didn’t know you could sing.”

Caleb laughs, a short huff of breath. He looks away, staring intently at the shadowed kitchen cabinets. “Ja, not very well. It was— I suppose I am just in a mood, tonight.” 

His eyes flick up, briefly, to meet Fjord’s, and then he looks back down, fiddling with the headphone string. The still-hovering globule of light paints his eyelashes glowing red-gold.

“What was that last song?” Fjord asks, scrambling for something else to keep them in this moment. “I couldn’t understand it, but— it was beautiful.”

Caleb’s barely-there smile turns bittersweet, so fast that Fjord almost thinks he’s imagined it. The humorless twist to Caleb’s lips disappears almost as quickly as it arrived.

“Ja, it is,” he agrees. He unravels the headphones from his fingers and tucks his hands into his pockets. “Well, I— I am going to go to -  _ attempt _ to go to - bed, now.”

“Oh, right.” Fjord coughs. “Of course. Sleep well.” He winces at the awkwardness of his own words.

Caleb’s smile grows warmer, ever so slightly, and his fingers curl briefly around Fjord’s wrist on his way out the kitchen.

“You too, mein Freund,” he says over his shoulder.

The golden light stays hovering where it is, barely reaching far enough to spill its light into the hallway. Another globule - colder and dimmer, like the one Caleb had had up before Fjord had interrupted him - appears near Caleb’s shoulder. Fjord watches him go, something gnawing at his chest. That final song curls through his mind, forlorn piano stuck on repeat.


End file.
